By his own hand
by Bjrn Fallqvist
Summary: My view of one possible end of Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic


He stroke hard. Without remorse, without anger, without fear and without mercy. He was as cold as he could become. He did not care. What did it matter now?  
  
Another clash between them, and lightning flew from the other figure's hand, burning his armour and singing his flesh, but he was past the point of pain. Now all he could feel was coldness inside, and that coldness caused him to become almost totally numb, both in physical and psychological aspects.  
  
They were fighting on a walkway in a huge chamber, with giant windows looming before it, and outside that stretched an infinity of vast space. This walkway was crossing above a lower floor and led to a higher platform, which was directly in front of the windows. Lining the walls below were tubes of once-human, now rapidly decayed and lifeless forms, burned to cinders, but still kept together, as if some force kept them together from falling apart like dust.  
  
He felt a flow throughout him, something which connected everything; himself, his opponent, the still cooling bodies of soldiers outside, every small part of the ancient machines spread around the facility and even from the vaccum of space it came. Everything except the forms in the tanks he could feel it flowing in from. Even the air seemed alive, and without a thought, he used what he had thought long-forgotten abilities and let the power flow throughout him, but with a firm control, bending it to his own will.  
  
Around him everything seemed to tighten, then expand, only to draw in on itself once again. Metal chunks flew from the walls, drawn to the immense power, only to be crushed to nothing when they were sucked into the whirling of these powers. In the middle of the orb he stood, bending it around himself before pushing it forward in a speed that no human eye would have caught.  
  
His opponent was no human, though (at least not in the usual use of the word), and managed to stagger back and also reverse the powers in the orb, just before it hit, and his eyes widened in surprise and anger. Anger at being beaten, perhaps. Or anger at everything. But there was something else too, in those eyes. Resignation and regret?  
  
What had prevented him from doing things like this was gone, now, and there was nothing that could hold him back. He only wished things had been different. Then they both would have been saved. If he could have made the effort it required. But he couldn't. Had not been strong enough, and it was rapidly eating him from the inside.  
  
Before long, the fight had been resumed though, and yet again he felt no emotions. Not even as a glowing lance penetrated his opponents chest, he felt anything.  
  
The red-and black clad figure held a hand to his chest, and made an effort to speak, in which he succeded, with blood oozing from the charred hole in his clothing.  
  
"No.it's.it cannot be.you could not beat me here." He looked more surprised than angered, and there did not seem to be any hate in his voice, but mere respect.  
  
"I might have been strong then. But I am stronger now, and you know the reason as well as I do. You chose the side of death and everything decaying." There was nothing superior or mocking in his voice, mere sorrow and thoughtfulness.  
  
"You felt it as well, didn't you? When we fought, I could." he stopped to cough up a bit blood to what was left of his, and a few drops could be seen starting to sprinkle down from under the metalmask which covered his face from mouth and down.  
  
"I could feel you fall there again, fool.what do you think you have saved, by merely defeating me, but taking my place?" he continued with a much raspier and weaker voice than before, which seemed to be failing him now.  
  
"I know.and I will not let it happen. It all ends here. Today. It will ALL end. It will be my punishment, as well as my release. Quite a paradox, isn't it?" He responded with a heavier heart than before.  
  
A sudden realization dawned in the fallen man's eyes at hearing this, and they were a pool of mixed feelings. By a quick look, you could make out anger at this waste, but down below that floated respect and relief. Without any conscious act, they rose to surface, and the the face of the man, once twisted in a constant mask of hate, now let his face be relieved of all past feelings.  
  
"I wonder.what would have happened if our places had been reversed.if I had been.if I had been on the ship? Would I have turned back.as you have? This place was never mine." and with this, his eyes closed, and the face seemed to have taken on an expression of peace, something rarely seen on those of his kind.  
  
With a barely audible sigh, the man turned his back from the dead one, and walked back, through old halls that now seemed to be vibrating with power, even the metal on the floor starting to vibrate, and the rusted (but still functioning) computer consoles lining where he walked. At last, he came to a domed chamber, a giant picture of something resembling a star chart rotating above. This holographic picture bathed the ceiling and floor below with it's green light emitting from it, creating a marvellous and beautiful sight for his tired eyes. But to him, they were grey, dull and lifeless. All was, except for the body lying still crumpled on the floor by a walkway leading out from the room. A woman in black clothes, her face seeming even more regal and beautiful than it was in life. Maybe it was because she was lost to him now. Forever.  
  
He sat down on the floor next to her, cradled her in his arms and then was when he finally let the tears fall. Silent tears, but tears nonetheless, a sign of his feelings. He could show his feelings yet again, as it was no longer a necessity for him to be devoid of them.  
  
He cluthced her tight and thought about her, how she had been. Proud, superior, rash but also intelligent. But that was not what he had loved her because of. He could not tell exactly why. Was he allowed to love, considering his past life? It seemed fate was still punishing him, despite his tries to atone for his atrocities.  
  
She had been a rock to rely on first of all, and after that also a very close friend. After that came deeper feelings, although he could not understand how she could have felt how she did. She knew. Maybe most importantly, right after he had come to know his past, all his memories had returned in full force. He would surely have gone mad, had it not been his thoughts of her and knowing she relied on him. She had been what he had then relied on, the knowledge of her being alive, but now she had been brutally ripped away from him, painfully.  
  
By his own hands.  
  
He had not been strong enough then, but in this his resolve was hard. A door behind him was heard opening, and a soon middle-aged soldier (with a suspicious look on his face) entered the room. He needed only take a quick look to understand what had happened.  
  
The soldier walked forward, and tried to drag him to his feet, but without result, as he just sagged back down again, still cluthing her body tightly.  
  
"She is gone.there is nothing more for us to do here, and soon this place will be coming down all over our heads. The fleet is within bombardment range, we got to get out of here while we still can."  
  
"Leave." Was the only response that was given.  
  
"Come on, we can't just leave you here, I know it's hard and."  
  
"She was the only reason I had for going on, you know.after that.incident at the ship, it all came back at once.she was the only thought I could hold on to remain my sanity.now that she is gone.how could I ever expect to live on? Either I would go insane and cause even more sorrow or I am doomed to a life in constant anguish of what I have done, and how things could have been. No, this is how it must be. Please, just grant me this final boon so I may die as I want to, and not torn apart by inner struggles."  
  
The soldier looked as if he wanted to argue again, but as he took a look on the mans pale and of sorrow twisted face and his tired eyes who had seen too much, he extended his hands without a word, and the man took it in a firm grasp and shook it once.  
  
The door closed again, and yet again he was alone with her. He was still clutching her to his chest and crying softly when a tremendous explosion could be heard, shaking the entire station.  
  
As the thick blast door was blown of its hinges and flew up into the ceiling, he could see fire rushing through to greet him.  
  
This thousandth of second before it was all over, his only thought was "Yes. By my own hand." 


End file.
